


All I Wanna Say Is It Will Be Alright

by doublesteal



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublesteal/pseuds/doublesteal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So how is he doing?” </p>
<p>“Who? Con?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Wanna Say Is It Will Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously born out of recent events. This was originally supposed to be a "5 Times Troye Asked 'So how is he doing?', and 1 Time He Got to Ask 'So how are you doing?'", but I feel like this fandom is currently (sadly) operating on borrowed time. Eh.
> 
> Title from "All I Wanna Say" by Lontalius.

_Amplify, Melbourne_

“So how is he doing?” 

“Who? Con?” If Tyler had looked up from his phone, he’d see the daggers Troye’s eyes are sending his way. They’re both sitting backstage before the Amplify show in Melbourne. Troye just flew in from LA after a week of dancing tiny circles around Connor. It had been the worst LA trip he’s had in a while. LA, in all its harshness, had always been a place of warmth and odd familiarity for Troye, but this time it felt unbearably foreign and unwelcoming. He’s grateful to be back in Australia, even if for a short time before Europe. 

Despite Tyler purposely playing the fool Troye bites his tongue. “Yeah, I’m asking about Connor,” he says quietly. 

“Why do you want to know?”

Troye can’t help but roll his eyes. Tyler is known to be protective, but Troye’s not sure who he’s protecting at this point. “Because Tyler…” he trails off. 

Tyler finally looks up from his phone. “Because what?”

“Stop,” Troye says earnestly. Pleading, almost. Tyler sighs and Troye winces. “It’s not bad is it…” 

“No. No, no, no,” Tyler says immediately, but he hesitates and Troye knows he’s picking his words carefully. “He’s hurting, Troye. Just like you are. Just like anyone would coming out of a relationship. But you know him… Once you set Connor on a goal, that boy will put his blinders on and go. And right now his goal is moving on.” Tyler says the last part softly, a little less like Tyler Oakley and a little more like Tyler, Troye’s best friend. The honesty is like a breath of fresh air. 

Troye swallows. “I know, I know. And that’s exactly what I want to hear. That he’s doing okay- “

“I don’t know about okay, but I think he’s trying to get there.” 

“He’ll get there.” 

“Did you ever doubt he would?”

Troye nods his head in agreement. If there’s anything he’s been sure about it’s that Connor can get himself through anything; whatever life, or YouTube, or Troye, or anyone else throws at him. Troye pauses for a moment. “Thank you, Ty. For everything.” The message is unsaid, _for being there for him, for taking him to that dumb exercise group you and Korey go to, for going to brunch with him on Valentine’s Day, for making sure he’s getting there._

And Tyler understands, just like he always does. He gives Troye a half smile and a long look. “You’re welcome, Troye.” 

Tyler doesn’t miss a beat though and suddenly bops Troye over the head and messes up his curls. “Now fucking get off your bony ass and go get me a water or something. I know all that fame must have inflated that small head of yours and you, like, have Taylor on speed dial now, but that update on Con’s life wasn’t free, ya know.”

Troye snorts out a laugh, thinks about the WeGetItYou’reFamous .gif, thinks about how different life was like such a short while ago. He gets up and finds Tyler a water.

—

_Venice Beach, Los Angeles_

They’re sitting on the sand, shoes off and pants rolled up to their knees. Although Troye hasn’t felt this nervous or unsure of himself in a long time, his senses are well aware of the body sitting next to him. Their shoulders are almost touching, yet not quite. The air is heavy with salt and algae, still he inhales the scent of familiar wood and citrus-based cologne. They haven’t said anything for a while now, just staring out into the pink and orange tinged sunset.

Connor picks up a stray rock and flings it into the ocean. It skips — _one, two_ — before a wave swallows it whole.

“So how are you doing, really?” Troye asks again. Earlier they had a nice dinner in a quiet cafe, but the conversation felt a bit forced, like they were only acquaintances awkwardly treading topics in the attempt to avoid prolonged silence. Connor had asked him about his music and tour, and he asked Connor about Common Culture and the book that was tentatively planned for next year. Their conversation had rotated around work and neither of them were brave enough to push or pull it any farther.

Without looking, Troye can almost feel Connor pull his shoulders in. “Truthfully?” 

“Truthfully.” 

“I’m okay,” Connor breathes out, like he’s confessing something much heavier. He had answered the question earlier at dinner, but this time Troye picks up a different sincerity in Connor’s voice. “I’m okay, Troye.” 

“That’s good to hear, Con. That’s so good to hear.”

“And I hope you’re okay, too,” Connor looks his way and it jars Troye, who still can’t get fully used to the intensity of Connor’s gaze, even after all this time. 

“I am. I think I am. I’m just,” he pauses. “I’ve seen some of our friends and I kept asking about you. I mean, nothing more than that. But I just needed to know you were… okay.” 

Connor nods, wrapping his arm around his elbows. 

“And I think I’ve just realized and accepted that regardless of what happens between us, I might always need to know that you’re okay,” Troye quirks his mouth. He waits for Connor to say something, but Connor just pulls at the hem of his own sleeve. “I think that’s my very long winded way of saying that I’ll always care about you, Connor. And I hope that’s alright.”

“I hope you already knew I’d always care about you,” Connor says finally, raising an eyebrow at Troye. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to — even if I hated you — as _sad_ as that sounds.”

“You have a big heart.” 

Connor snorts. “Yeah, well…” he trails off, and Troye bites his bottom lip.

“I feel like I should also say I’m sorry- ” Troye starts, but Connor kicks his leg immediately. 

“Stop it.” 

Troye bows his head. Moments pass and they don’t speak, only the sound of waves breaking against the sand in front of them.

“If you want, I’ll send you an update of my mood in emojis. Every day. Forever.” 

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m still following you on Twitter, so that’s basically the same thing.” 

Connor barks out a laugh, and for a moment Troye feels like they’ve been thrown back in time, before everything. And it’s nice. He looks forward to the day they can maintain this again.

“Honest, though,” Troye says. “I’m glad that tonight happened. I’m glad all of it happened.” 

“Yeah,” Connor looks over at him. “I’m glad it happened, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Twitter (@doublefranta) and we can cry about everything together.


End file.
